She pushed back her pitch-dark hair and I only just bit my tongue from making a smart-arse reply. I smiled at her. Who wouldn’t? “Thank you. I have everything.”
When she had sashayed out the door, Toby grinned at me. “A perk of the job. All the girls here are bilingual of course. Some of the units have German lassies but it’s a tad early for that in Mil Int, don’t you agree?” He poured the tea and continued.
“You’re one of Gerry Cassells’ old team, then? Did good work. Hardest job of them all. Behind the lines, no one to talk to, and if caught…” He mimicked a noose tightening.
“Something like that. I have to say, I felt a lot safer being shelled by Rommel than interrogated by the Gestapo.”
“Quite.” Anstruther looked me up and down. Behind his piggy little eyes was a shrewdness; not your born leader but nothing much would get past him. “So, you’re out here looking for a girl, I’m told. A German agent. Copeland or Kaplan, take your pick. Funny, I used to read her column. Hardly seems likely.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s why I’m here. It doesn’t add up.”
There was the same long look from him, as though he was drilling into my head.
“Cassells seemed quite clear.” He reached out to his tray and pulled the slim folder off the pile. He opened it and scanned the papers. He knew every line.
And could read between them.
“Says they caught her in flagrante? Transmitter under bed, code book, the lot.
Seems fairly conclusive…”
“Two men looking at a piece of metal sticking out of the ground. One sees the fin of a bomb, the other an old cooker.”
“But a transmitter, Danny?”
“Ham wireless operator?”
He put on a wry smile. “Whoever she is, you both want the girl. I’m here to help.”
“I appreciate that, Toby. But where to start? This isn’t my patch.”
“It would help to know why she was here.”
“If we knew that…”
“Quite. But let’s assume she is a German spy. She could be trying to make contact with her old team. The man or woman who was running her. Agreed?”
I nodded. He went on. “If that’s the case, what I can say is she’s probably not in our sector. We keep a pretty close eye on who’s seeing who round here. So do the Yanks. The French? Well… the French do their own thing, but we’re on pretty good terms with them.” He tapped the file. “When I got wind of this I put some calls out. We asked them to keep an eye out for ripples. Anyone asking questions.”
“And?”
“Nothing so far. But that was only a couple of days ago. My hunch is that she’d go where the climate is a little warmer for ex-Nazis. The Russians got here two months before us and had the run of the place. After raping every woman over ten and under ninety they installed their own tame Krauts in charge of each district, running them along the same lines as the old SS. We’re beginning to push things back in our own sectors but the Germans seem more comfortable under… how shall we put it?… strong leaders. The Russians are happier to make use of the former Nazi top men than we are. If I were her, looking for my old playmates, that’s where I’d look first.”
“Can I travel into the Russian sector?”
“Ye-e-s. They have plenty of patrols, but that’s mainly to keep their own soldiers out of trouble. It’s not as if there’s a fence or anything. Yet.”
“Do I need a pass?”
“We’ll fix that. But for god’s sake be careful. The place is a thieves’ kitchen.
Roaming in gangs. They’d murder their grandmother for a packet of fags. All nationalities. Poles, Czechs, Russians… the flotsam of war, Danny.”
“Can I get a map? Can you show me where to start?”
“I can do better than that. I’ll lend you Corporal Vic for a few days. He speaks the lingo and knows his way around, particularly the shadier spots, I’m afraid.
Don’t let him corrupt you.”
FIFTEEN
Vic was smirking as we left Toby’s den. The mission obviously agreed with him.
We hopped into his jeep and he whizzed me round to the Tiergarten Mess, a block of flats requisitioned by the British Army, and left me to sort myself out.
Luxury. I had two small rooms to myself. The sitting room had a wireless and a couple of sagging chairs, with a little fold-up table by the dirty window. The walls were in a heavy patterned wallpaper with vivid rectangles where the previous occupants had hung their framed photos of Kaiser Bill or Goebbels.
A tiny scullery ran off it, with a sink, a gas cooker and a wall cupboard. With a fine sense of British priorities the cupboard held a little caddy of tea and some sugar, along with a kettle, two cups and saucers and a couple of plates. In the bedroom I found a single bed and a wardrobe. The floor had worn but clean carpets over the lino. I took my shoes off, lay down on the bed and lit up. All hunky-dory.
Vic called again at six pm in civvies, hair glistening, and looking like he was born to wear silk ties and white socks. He was chewing a large wad of gum. I felt like a bank manager alongside him.
“Got cash?” he asked.
“I’ve got these.” I showed him a handful of dollars, surprising gifts from Cassells. You’re sort of on the payroll, Daniel. “And these.” I pulled out a packet of cigarettes and patted my pockets to show the rest of my supply.
“What about one of these?” He slid his hand round the back of his trousers and pulled out a gun. It was a 9mm Belgian Browning High Power automatic. Used 9mm bullets. Thirteen to the cartridge and one up the spout. A nice weapon and a good crowd stopper.
“Do we need them?”
“Where do you think you are? Finchley? We’re averaging two hundred robberies and five murders a day. And that’s just the official numbers.”
I walked over to the wardrobe where I’d hung my coat and few belongings. I lifted my socks and pants and retrieved the heavy Luger I’d purloined from my altercation with Gambatti’s boys. God knows how the Navy version had turned up in the East End. The extra length gave it greater accuracy over Vic’s Browning, but it needed to be kept spotless and oiled if it wasn’t to foul up.
“This do?”
Vic whistled. I made sure the safety was on and tucked it into my waistband in the small of my back. I hoped there were no real cowboys out there. By the time I withdrew the long barrel from my trousers, flipped the safety and aimed the thing, I could have been outdrawn by a girl guide.
“Any idea where to look, Danny?”
I thought about the tangled words in Eve’s notebook. I’d found some references to Berlin but nothing that made sense. Not without some context.
“What’s the layout? I mean how’s this place set up?”
“Simple. Draw a line north to south, splitting the city in two. The Ruskies have everything east of the line. We share the west with the Yanks and the Froggies.
We’re in the middle, the French above us and the Americans in the south.”
“Where would you go if you wanted to lie low?”
Vic laughed. “This whole sodding place is an escape hole.”
“Toby said old Nazis hang out in the Russian sector. Make sense?”
“Maybe. Let’s take a look.”
I saw the expression on his face. He knew this was hopeless. But I had to try.
We left the flat, pockets bulging with fags, cash and guns, and headed for the wild side of town. Vic left his
